Build Me Up, Buttercup
by Tabloid
Summary: Swifty takes it upon himself to cheer up Snoddy, who's been dumped. Involves DragQueen!Swifty and Iowa. Rated for Swumlets, and some language. 'I'm staging an intervention'


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Newsies, nor do I own the song "Build Me Up, Buttercup."

**A/N:** Mayfly belongs to Sita, Raven belongs to Raven, and Smalltalk is mine.

**Warnings:** Swumlets, some language, some bad language. It's sparse, though.

"_Build me up, Buttercup, baby, just to let me down_…"

When I hear that song this early in the morning, there's only one explanation: Swifty's dusting again.

I groan, burying my face into my pillow. Sleeep… need more sleep….

"_And mess me around, and then worst of all, you never call_…"

My roommate is from hell. There's no question about it. One day God looked down at me and went "Golly gee, I think I will have some fun with my good friend Snoddy!" and bam, Kevin "Swifty" Li is at my door, answering my ad for a roommate.

It was either him or the guy who talked to his hand. And whose hand "talked" back.

Though he may have been the wiser choice, because I'm sure neither him nor his hand sings "Build Me Up, Buttercup" at seven in the morning.

On a Saturday. I could kill him.

With a resigned grunt I push myself up, out of bed, and trudge sleepily out of my bedroom and into the living room.

And there is my roommate, hopping around, dusting the tables and lampshades and shaking his butt in his too-short shorts.

"Baby, when you say you will," he continues singing, oblivious to my presence, then throws his voice up high "_Say you will!"_

My roommate is the highest-paid drag queen in Iowa. And, as he puts on his own performance in our living room, it's apparent why- the boy's fucking talented.

The other two guys don't stand a chance.

"But I love you, still! _I neeeeed you_-"

"Christ, Swift, you couldn't be any more flaming if someone set you on fire."

Swifty tosses his head, throwing his dark bangs from his eyes. "You are just jealous zat you do not pozess ze sexy zat I do." He says, striking a pose.

I raise an eyebrow. "Yeah. That's it." I sigh, and make my way to the breakfast nook, passing the window as the sun glimmers off the tall dorm buildings at the University of Iowa, and into my eyes. Stupid sun. Stupid glimmering.

Swifty follows me like a big, homosexual puppy dog, and stick out his lower lip as he watches me pour a bowl full of Count Chocula cereal, and then as I watch as my milk slowly turns chocolaty.

"Snoddy" he sighs, suddenly serious (well, as serious as Swifty gets). "She dumped you _three months ago_. Get over it, _chico_."

I just look at him, and he sighs again. "Listen, come out with the group tonight. It'll be fun. I promise."

I shake my head. "Naw."

And, as Swifty continues to watch, I pick up my bowl of cereal and make my way back into my room.

-----

At a quarter to five, Swifty storms in, tossing my bedroom door open with enough force to make my wall shake.

"I'm staging an intervention!" He announces.

I glare at him from under my covers.

"First off," he begins, "you need to get out of that bed."

"No, thank y-" and, before I can finish, Swifty grabs my ankle, yanks, and WHAM, I'm on the floor.

"I hate you."

"For now." he says non-chalantly. "But later you will love me for it."

I snort. When pigs fly.

"Secondly," he continues, making his way to the window and shoving it open, "we purge the room of the bad."

And with that he grabs a the nearest picture frame- the one holding the picture of me and Courtney at her mother's wedding- and tosses it out the window.

I leap to my feet. "What are you doing!"

"Purging." He responds, and grabs the Scooby-Doo stuffed animal Courtney gave me for my birthday (What? Scooby _rocks_.), promptly dropping it out the window.

I run over, looking down the three stories to the concrete below where my possessions now lay, then turn and glare at my roommate. "I'm going to go get those. And then I'm coming back up here and killing you." And I turn to do just that.

From behind me, Swifty leaps, wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. "No! I can't allow it!"

"Get the hell off me!"

"No! This is unhealthy-oomph", he says as I run him into my bookshelf in a desperate attempt to free myself.

"Seriously, Snoddy!" he exclaims, "I saw it on Oprah!"

Suddenly we're airborne- I tripped over the goddamn cereal bowl- and I grunt as Swifty lands on top of me.

We lie there for a second, panting. Swifty's the first one to recover. "Snoddy, you're coming out with us tonight."

"Fuck you."

He shrugs. "Promises."

I glare as he picks his way around the crap den that is my floor, and opens the closet door. He grabs out a pair of brown cargo pants and black tank, then tosses them at me. "Got take a shower, then put those on," he says in a no-nonsense tone.

So I do the only thing any self-respecting man would do in such a situation- I grumble and do as the drag queen says.

-----

When I walk back into my room I stop in the doorway.

Someone has stolen my bedroom. This isn't my bedroom. This room is fucking _clean_.

And, I notice, completely devoid of anything that had to do with Courtney. Without looking, I know that all of it is on the ground outside my window.

That boy watches way too much _Queer Eye._

Ten minutes later- I'm fully dressed and surveying myself in the mirror while trying to comb my hair back with my fingers- the door slams open again.

"Gasp! It lives!" Smalltalk Connors crows, prancing through the doorway. Yes. Prancing. That girl never walks- she prances, or shashays, or fucking _cha-chas_ places. There's a reason she and Swifty are best friends.

"He is?" Mayfly Bennet pokes her head into the room.

"Damn it! I had bet he wouldn't come out of recluse for another two weeks," she snaps her fingers. Or at least, attempts to. "Shoot."

Smalltalk snickers. "Recluse. Funny word."

I roll my eyes, and look at myself in the mirror. Well, that's as good as it's gonna get.

"Where's Swifty?" I ask the two, who are transfixed by the lava lamp on my bedside table. (Strange… I don't have a lava lamp. Swifty must have done some redecorating).

Mayfly beams at me. "Playing tonsil hockey with Bumlets," she says, then squeals. "They are so _cute_!"

Smalltalk cackles gleefully. The girl tends to grate on my nerves a little- especially when she's going through my drawers.

"Get out of there!" I snap, but I'm too late.

"Snoddy, are these condoms?"

Mayfly surveys the box with a skeptical eye. "Ribbed for her pleasure? Snoddy, you scoundrel!"

"Out!" I bellow, and throw my pillows at them. Smalltalk and Mayfly giggle, and run out of the room.

"And give those back, Smalltalk!"

"No!" she howls, "Now they are _miiiine_!"

I shrug, pick up the pillow and put it on my bed (hey, the room's clean, it might as well stay that way). It's not like I'll be needing them, anyway.

------

A couple minutes later, I walk out of my bedroom and into the living room, where not only Swifty and Bumlets are macking, but Raven (the third in the trio of girls) and her boyfriend Spot were going at it, as well. But hey, the macking is better than the screaming. At least they're quiet.

I raise an eyebrow as Spot groans. Well, for the most part.

"You have five minutes to get me out the door, or else I'm going to go back in there-" I jerk my thumb towards my bedroom door. "-and bemoaning my existence."

Smalltalk snickers from the floor where she sat playing Super Smash Brothers, Melee with Mayfly. "Bemoaning is a funny word- _hey_!"

"Hey, what?" Mayfly giggles.

"You killed me!"

"Yup!"

"You can't kill me!"

"Why not?"

"I'm Zelda, Transgender Princess of the World!"

"Yeah, well, I guess that doesn't hold up against Donkey Kong."

Swifty manages to untangle himself from Bumlets and leaps to his feet. "Let's go!" he cries. "Smalls, turn off the damn video game."

"Fine." She pouts. "I was losing anyway."

I sigh as Swifty guides me towards the door. "Seriously, Swift, do I have to do this?"

"Yes." He chirps, planting a slobbery kiss on my cheek and giving my shoulders a squeeze. "C'mon. The world awaits."

I frown, wiping the spot where he kissed me. "Are you wearing lip-gloss?"

He stops, posing. "It completes the _ensemble_, love!" He said, gesturing to his tight jeans, pink camouflage tank top, and rhinestone belt.

"Besides," he added, blinking his mascara-ed eyelashes at me. "Mayfly leant it to me."

And with that he proceeds to prance out of the room, and the group follows him out. I sigh and roll my eyes, taking a step back into the apartment. Maybe they won't notice.

My hopes are dashed, though, as Raven leans in, grabs me by my shirt, and pulls me out the door, "Fuck, Snoddy, you're such a _woman_."

I grit my teeth. Fine, so I'm going. But I'm determined not to have any fun.

----

My determination fails me. Oh, woe.

So, I have to admit (but only to myself) that I did have fun. And I discovered that Smalltalk and Mayfly can be good dance partners (when they're not doing some tricked out version of the Macarena), and fairly interesting to talk with- at least when they're not repeating the phrase "Ribbed For Her Protection" and dissolving into giggles.

Note to self- never let the two of them into my bedroom again.

At around three in the morning, Swifty, Bumlets and I return to the apartment. I sigh and run my hand through my hair as the two giggle behind me. Swifty leans over and whispers something into Bumlets's ear, who snickers and runs off into Swifty's room.

Great. Their loud, jack-rabbit sex is going to keep me up all night.

"Hey, Swift?" I say as he starts to follow his boyfriend.

"Hm?"

"Thanks for dragging me out against my will."

He laughs, throwing his head back. "No problem, _amigo_. Welcome back to the land of the living." And with that he sashays into his bedroom.

I roll my eyes, walk over to the fridge and down a can of Coke (the poor man's drug), and stare at the counter top for a minute.

Then I grin, and head back to my room, humming to myself. "Build me up, Buttercup, just to- oh, _shit_."

Oh, how I enjoy it! squeezes DragQueen!Swifty


End file.
